Greener Than the Scenery
by The Mudblooded Slytherin
Summary: Harry is in love with Malfoy, and Ron feels betrayed, but Ron's problems run deeper than jealousy, and all is not as it seems. Vaguely inspired by Bloody Valentine by Good Charlotte.


How could he betray him like this? Harry was his _friend_. Ever since they were eleven they had kept nothing from each other, and this news brought everything crashing down. A tidal wave of shock. An avalanche of despair. An earthquake that shook the very foundations of Ron's precarious world. A sort of grave, natural disaster in any case. All the truths that held Ron together, truths such as Harry not lying, Harry being a good friend and, most importantly, Harry not fucking Draco Malfoy behind his back all were turned upside down and Ron was drowning. He didn't know what to do.

"Hermione, what should I do?" he whispered. There was no answer. Not that he had expected one. Ron pulled his cloak closer around him, the chill of the graveyard matching the coldness he felt inside. Or perhaps it was just him, because it wasn't that cold in May. A crunching behind him told Ron that someone was coming up the path behind him. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.

_"I didn't mean for you to find out that way, Ron," Harry said softly._

"Oh, really?" Ron said, still staring at the headstone. "How did you mean, then?"

A moment passed. _Harry sighed and knelt down next to Ron. "It's--"_

"I'll tell you what it is," Ron interrupted, his voice rising. "It's a betrayal."

_"Ron--"_

"Harry, just stop! You knew! You knew how I felt, and you just didn't care!" he shouted. Somewhere along the line he had stood up. His fists were clenched in anger and his face was warm and flushed.

_"Ron, not here. Don't do this here," Harry said, standing up as well._

Ron's teeth snapped together. How dare he presume to be respectful, at a time like this? When Ron knew without a doubt that he was just a lying bastard? But that was Harry Potter for you, Ron thought spitefully. Never caring for anyone's feelings but his own. As though that scar on his face branded him as something special. Harry had known how Ron felt about him, but did he ever show that he cared, that he gave a damn at all what pain he caused? Ron wanted to scream at him, hit him, choke him, used his hands and squeeze the life out of him, make him feel a fraction of what Ron felt every second.

"Just tell me why," he pleaded, looking up at Harry, his face a perfect display of anguish.

_"Because I loved him," Harry said._

Something very key inside Ron broke at that. "He doesn't love you," he said harshly.

_Harry looked at Ron sadly. "Yes, Ron. He does."_

Ron looked at the ground. "He can't. Not now, not after everything, he can't..."

When he looked back up, Harry was gone.

---

Ron knew Malfoy didn't love Harry. It was so obvious! Malfoy and Harry? Ron couldn't even wrap his mind around it. But Harry just didn't understand, try as he might to explain it to him (Harry had always been hardheaded), and Ron knew he would have be the one who would prove it to him. No one loved him more than Ron did, and Harry was making a mockery of Ron's feelings. Well, Ron would have no more of it.

He walked down the quiet street, footsteps echoing on the pavement. He opened the door to Harry's flat (because Harry trusted Ron and had the wards keyed to let him in, in case of emergencies).

Ron quickly surveyed the room. There was a mop and bucket in the corner of the kitchen (Harry always forgot to put things away). He graciously wiped his shoes on the mat. Harry had just cleaned the floor; Ron wouldn't want to dirty it.

He made his way through the flat (he knew it well enough to need no light) to Harry's bedroom. The door was wide open (because the small room reminded him of the cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairs) and Ron went inside.

Harry was sprawled on the bed, limbs flung every which way, pajama top worked halfway off, and sheets tangled in his legs. Ron smiled (some things never changed). He climbed slowly onto the bed, straddling Harry's torso. Harry mumbled something and his eyes fluttered open, then widened in surprise (a look Ron was familiar with. Harry was so expressive). Before Harry had a chance to speak, Ron dragged the tip of his wand across Harry's throat, cutting deep into the flesh. It was a spell he had learned from Malfoy during the war, and he thought it only appropriate to use it now. Harry gasped for breath (Ron was reminded of that time during the Triwizard Tournament where Harry had almost drowned to save him), spraying drops of blood over the bed and over Ron.

Suddenly, Harry pushed Ron, hard, and he went flying to the ground. Harry reached for his wand, and Ron scrambled to his feet. Ropes burst from the end of Harry's wand (he never had been that good at wordless spells, and didn't know very many) but Ron easily Vanished them as he walked closer to Harry. Harry's eyes were wide and panicked, and when Ron got close Harry threw down his wand and belted him in the face. Ron, went down again. Harry tried to step over him towards the door, but the difficulty breathing and the blood loss were starting to catch up to him and he tripped. His head hit the corner of the wooden bed frame with a sickening crack. Ron crawled over to him and turned him over.

"Harry... Harry..." Ron stood up and cursed. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen at all...

---

_Ron knew Malfoy didn't love Harry. It was so obvious! Malfoy and Harry? Ron couldn't even wrap his mind around it. But Harry just didn't understand, try as he might to explain it to him (Harry had always been hardheaded), and Ron knew he would have be the one who would prove it to him. No one loved him more than Ron did, and Harry was making a mockery of Ron's feelings. Well, Ron would have no more of it._

_He didn't care about the strange stares he was getting from the Muggles on the street. Let him thing he was a weirdo wearing a robe and carrying a stick, walking around in the pouring rain with no umbrella. The only ones up at this hour seedy sorts, anyway, and no one cared what they thought. Besides, he had more important things to deal with. He opened the door to Harry's flat (because Harry trusted Ron and had the wards keyed to let him in, in case of emergencies)._

_Ron quickly surveyed the room. There was a mop and bucket in the corner of the kitchen (Harry always forgot to put things away). He graciously hung his wet cloak on the hook and removed his shoes. Harry had just cleaned the floor; Ron wouldn't want to dirty it._

_He made his way through the flat (he knew it well enough to need no light) to Harry's bedroom. The door was wide open (because the small room reminded him of the cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairs) and Ron went inside._

_Harry was sprawled on the bed, limbs flung every which way, pajama top worked halfway off, and sheets tangled in his legs. Ron smiled (some things never changed). He climbed slowly onto the bed, straddling Harry's torso. Harry mumbled something and his eyes fluttered open, then widened in surprise (a look Ron was familiar with. Harry was so expressive). Before Harry had a chance to speak, Ron dragged the tip of his wand across Harry's throat, cutting deep into the flesh. It was a spell he had learned from Malfoy during the war, and he thought it only appropriate to use it now. Harry gasped for breath (Ron was reminded of that time during the Triwizard Tournament where Harry had almost drowned to save him), spraying drops of blood over the bed and over Ron._

_"See, Harry? Do you understand? You may think you love Malfoy, and maybe you do, but Malfoy would never love you back. He can't." Harry tried to speak, but couldn't. Ron traced another line with his wand, this time along Harry's jawbone. Harry tried to jerk his head away, but only succeeding in making Ron's hand twitch and cut him deeper. "I know, I know," Ron said absently. "He tells you he loves you, but Harry, can't you see he's lying? He's using you." Ron looked at Harry fondly. "You're the famous Harry Potter, and you'll never be more than an object to him." He traced Harry's scar. Harry made a frantic gurgling noise and arched his body. Ron held him down as blood began dripping down his face. Harry's eyes were huge and panicked and slightly unfocused. Ron, of course, noticed this, and promptly reached over to the bedside table and grabbed Harry's glasses. He placed them ever so gently on his face. Harry blinked madly as blood ran into his eye._

_"See, Harry? It could never work between you. Malfoy is fire and you're ice." Harry desperately shook his head. Ron rolled his eyes and twirled his wand between his fingers as though they were having a friendly disagreement about quidditch. "Yes, I know, I know, everyone always says. He's ice and you're fire, but Harry," his expression darkened, "the ice is what gets destroyed in the end, and Malfoy is stronger than you. The fire consumes the ice, and the ice is consumed by the fire, and Harry, Malfoy would never let himself be consumed by you." Ron dragged his wand down, drawing a thin red line directly above Harry's heart. "He's too good for that."_

---

"He knew I wanted you," Ron said.

"What?" spat Draco, with a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. "Weasley? What are you doing here? What are you talking about?"

Ron smiled. "He knew I wanted you, but he betrayed me. He stole you from me."

Draco's face paled. "You mean Harry."

Ron laughed. It was more of a giggle, really. A very scary, demented giggle. "Of course, who else?"

"How did you get in my house, Weasley?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. The only person who can get in here besides me is Harry, and I don't see him."

Ron smiled again. "And you won't be. It's alright, I've taken care of everything. You can stop pretending now."

Draco was moving slowly to the side of his bed towards his wand. "What are you talking about, Weasley?"

"Stop pretending you love him! Really, I thought it would be obvious." Ron looked a little put out that Draco hadn't guessed his plans.

"What are you on about, you loon?" Draco started reaching out his arm, very slowly, towards the bedside table.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. It's so obvious you didn't love him," Ron stated.

"But I do love him," Draco protested. Almost there...

"No!" Ron shouted. "You don't!" He started fumbling in his pockets. "Here, I'll... it's in here somewhere..." Something distracted Draco from his mission to get his wand. Something that had just fallen from Weasley's pocket. Something that he would have recognized anywhere. Something that made his blood run cold.

Harry's hand.

"Ah!" Ron said triumphantly, pulling out a small box. "Found it!"

Draco grasped his wand and lunged at Ron, knocking him to the ground. "What did you do to Harry?_ What the fuck did you do to him?_" he screamed, his wand pointed strait at Ron's forehead.

Ron looked surprised, but not scared. Instead of answering, he opened the box. Inside was a ring. "I got it for you, now that we can be together--"

"Shut up! Shut your bloody trap!" He grasped Ron's head and forced it sideways, towards the bloody hand. "You cut off Harry's hand so you could get in my house?" He yelled. "You sick mother fucker, _where is he?_"

"He's gone," Ron said, a frown appearing on his face. "It's for the best, he was just in the way."

Draco gave him a look of pure hatred.

_"Crucio."_

When Draco finally took the curse off, Ron was on the brink of unconsciousness. "I would kill you right now, Weasley, but I'd rather hand you over to the dementors..." No, no, no, this wasn't right. This wasn't right at all!

---

_"He knew I wanted you," Ron said._

_"What?" slurred Draco, with a look of confusion and annoyance at being woken up on his face. "Weasley? What are you doing here? What are you talking about?"_

_Ron smiled. "He knew I wanted you, but he betrayed me. He stole you from me."_

_Draco looked curious. "You mean Harry."_

_Ron laughed. "Of course, who else?"_

_"How did you get in my house, Weasley?"_

_"Does it matter?"_

_"I guess not."_

_Ron smiled again. "It's alright, I've taken care of everything. You can stop pretending now."_

_"You mean... Harry's... gone?"_

_Ron nodded emphatically. He took a few steps foreword. When Malfoy didn't stop him, he sat down on the bed._

_Draco looked up at Ron. "You don't know how long I've waited for this. I wanted to leave him, but every time I tried he would... say these things, about how horrible his life had been and how happy he was to have me... he would tell me he loved me, and I just couldn't leave..." He buried his head into Ron's chest._

_Ron stroked his hair comfortingly. "I know, he tricked you, but it's alright now. You don't have to lie anymore."_

_Draco looked up at Ron again, only this time there was a spark in his eyes. "You did this for me?"_

_"I'd do anything for you," Ron said truthfully._

_Draco smiled the most brilliant smile and reached his hands up around Ron's neck, pulling him closer and closer..._

---

"Ron? It's time to go," a voice said softly. Ron started. He turned toward the voice. Hermione was smiling sadly at him. "Are you ready?" she asked. Ron stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. He took a last look at the gravestone.

Harry James Potter

(1980-2005)

Simple. Ron knew Harry would have liked it.

Hermione took his arm and lead him back to the black carriage with a golden A on the door. As they neared it, a dementor opened the door from inside. Hermione helped Ron inside. Ron suddenly shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around him, though perhaps it was just him. It wasn't that cold in May. Harry looked over at him sadly from his seat next to him.

"Just tell me why," Ron pleaded, looking over at Harry, his face a perfect display of anguish.

_"Because I loved him," Harry said._


End file.
